tive newcomer. Are you _sure_ he's in complete accord with the
original plan, Homer? Does the El Hassan dream mean the same to him as
it does to you, and ... well, me?"

He shot her an impatient glance, even as he hit the lift lever to
raise them over a small dune. "You and Dave don't hit it off very
well. He's a good man, so far as I can see."

Her delicate forehead wrinkled and her pixie face showed puzzlement.
"I don't know why. I get along with most people, Homer."

He patted her hand. "You can't please everybody, Isobel. Listen,
something's got to be done about this king-size mob of camp followers
we've got. Did you know Common Europe sent in a delegation this
morning?"

"Delegation? Common Europe--?"

"Yeah. Haven't had time to discuss it with you. They found us just
before we raised camp. Evidently, the British Commonwealth and
possibly the Soviet Complex--some Chinese, I think--are also trying to
locate us. Half of these people are without their own equipment and
supplies, but that's not what worries me right now. We used to be able
to camouflage our headquarters camp. Dig into the desert and avoid the
aircraft. But if a group of bungling Common Market diplomats can
locate us, what's to keep the Arab Legion from doing it and blessing
us with a stick of neopalm bombs?"

Isobel said, "Look, before we leave Dave. Did you know he was
confiscating all radio equipment brought into our camp by the newsmen
and whoever else?"

Homer frowned. "Well, why?"

"Espionage, Dave says. He's afraid some of these characters might be
in with the Arab Union and inform on us."

"Well, that makes some sense," Homer nodded.

"Does it?" Isobel grumbled.

He shot an irritated glance at her again and said impatiently, "Can't
the poor guy do anything right?"

"My woman's intuition is working," Isobel grumbled.

* * * * *

Dave Moroka came into headquarters tent without introduction. He was
one of the half dozen who had permission for this. He had a sheaf of
papers in his left hand and was frowning unhappily.

"What's the crisis?" Homer said.

"Scouts coming up say your pal Bey-ag-Akhamouk is on the way.
Evidently, with a big harka of Teda from the Sudan."

"Great." Homer crowed. "Now we'll get going."

"Ha!" Dave said. "From what we hear, a good many are camel mounted.
How are we going to feed them? Already some of the Songhai Kenny
brought up from the south have drifted away, unhappy